Knitting under the White Moon
by Helvetica Standard Emblem
Summary: The story of a tailor and a prince. Oboro x Corrin(M)
_**Chapter 1: Dreaming of the Moon**_

The pale moon glistened alone in the night sky.

A young girl opened her eyes and gazed at the solitary orb of light n the sky. The stars hid behind the grey blanket of the clouds. They twinkled in the background, giving little light to the darkness that spanned across the landscape. The wheels of the carriage bumped against the nooks and cracks of the road.

The moonlight illuminated the verdant hills ahead. A soft breeze touched against her face as her hair danced with the wind. The young girl rubbed her eyes and turned her gaze to an older woman dressed in a snow-white dress. Hearing the rustling of clothes, the woman turned her attention to the awoken young girl. She let out a soft laugh and brought the young girl into her arms.

"Ah, it looks like our dear Oboro has woken up…"

Oboro met the gaze of an older woman with dark hair smiling softly at her. She felt the woman's hands cup her cheek as she felt her lips gingerly touch her face. The girl called Oboro let out a small giggle and rested her head against her mother's chest. The warmth of her mother's body calmed her against the chilling breeze of the oak forests. Her mother hummed as she ran her hands through Oboro's dark hair, combing through the rustled locks.

To the front of the carriage, a man not much older than her mother turned his attention from the horses dragging the carriage. Though he showed signs of exhaustion and fatigue, he still possessed a youthful exuberance. He grinned as he met the gazes of his wife and daughter.

"Did our little girl wake up already?"

Oboro smiled at her father as her mother patted her head.

"It would seem so. I suppose there isn't any reason to go back to sleep anymore now that you've awoken?"

Though she felt the fatigue of traveling for many days, she was nonetheless excited to travel outside of her home. It was not often that her parents took her along on their trips outside of Hoshido. She had heard stories of the dark kingdom of Nohr, and though she felt some small degree of anxiety of being so far from home, this feeling was easily outweighed by her wanderlust. To Oboro, who wished to see the world and all of its gifts, traveling quickly became a game of testing her patience. Very much like her parents who worked as tailors, she too wished to bear witness to the variety of culture outside of Hoshido.

"How much longer until we get there?"

Her father chuckled softly as he momentarily released the reins, rustling Oboro's hair playfully.

"Only one more day, dear. You'll finally get to see the kingdom of Nohr with your own eyes soon."

Oboro showed a tired smile as she again rested her body against her mother's. She gazed at the moon once again, dreaming of the day that she would be able to return home and watch the summer festival to celebrate the coming of the full harvest moon. It was every year on that day that she was able to wear the vivid kimonos and dresses that unveiled themselves during that one single night. To remember the fairytales and stories that her mother told her about the stars and the moon were always deep inside her memories.

Her mother pointed to the midnight blue canvas of the night sky. She took Oboro's hand and traced patterns across the stars, drawing the telltale pictures in her imagination.

"Isn't it beautiful, Oboro? You can see the patterns that the stars make, dancing around the full moon."

The night sky had always been a source of motivation to the young Oboro. It represented something unattainable yet shining in spite of the darkness. Her dream had been to follow the path of her parents as masters in the art of designing kimonos within Hoshido. To capture the essence of something abstract and materialize it into a physical construct was every designer's solemn wish. To Oboro, the night sky was this very thing.

"Mother, can we make a kimono like this when we get back home?"

Her mother kissed her forehead before looking into her daughter's eyes once again. Though she was never outspoken in lieu to her husband, her mother was capable is displaying a wide range of emotions with such few words.

"Of course we can, dear."

The carriage continued on its path for some time as Oboro hummed lullabies alongside her mother. She longed to return home to her family's shop. Though it was modest, it was still her home. Yet, to be with her family was just as valuable to her. As she harbored these thoughts, the carriage came to a slow but steady halt as her father peered into the distance.

"Ah, it looks like there's something blocking the road ahead. Let me check it out."

He dismounted from the carriage, momentarily disappearing into the darkness of the night. It only took a moment before her father came running back with a look of exacerbation.

"I-it's a man! It looks like he's badly injured! Bring the medical kit!"

Her mother's eyes widened as she began reaching into the stockpile on the back of the carriage. Slowly sifting though its contents, she eventually obtained a number of boxes and wrapped white bandages. She slung them across her shoulder and slowly stepped from the carriage onto the rough dirt path.

"Oboro, stay here. This isn't something that you should see. Promise me that you'll stay here, alright?"

The young girl slowly nodded her head as she watched her mother carry a box of medicine. As she watched her mother carry the packages of medicine, Oboro wrapped herself in her mother's coat. She snuggled under the cover of the fabrics and linen on the carriage. She had no desire to see a man dying, but her more curious side impelled her to peek from under the covers.

Gazing at her parents kneeled next to the wounded man, she noticed his hand reaching for his belt. Her mother was in the process of unwinding the bandages and preparing medicine. As her father began to remove the man's robes to view his injury, he momentarily paused, gazing intently at the man's chest.

"Wait, this isn't a wound. This is –"

His words were cut off as the flash of an iron blade cut across his throat. Before her very eyes, Oboro could only watch as the sudden burst of red painted the grass. As if in a trance, she watched as her father fell to the ground, gripping his neck as his attempts at breathing failed. He struggled to stand up, before falling into the pool of his own blood. Oboro could only cover her mouth with her hands, trying desperately not to scream and cry at the sight.

Her mother fell to the ground as her legs trembled. She turned her sight to the carriage, slowly crawling back from the assailant. Her eyes darted to the carriage, meeting Oboro's gaze. Gathering what little fortitude she had, her mother stood as she began dashing towards the carriage, her hand reaching out to her daughter. Like a shadow, the assassin drew a curved knife from his waist, cocking back his hand.

Oboro could only watch as the knife flew through the air, shrieking as it pierced the winds. Time came to a halt as she watched the blade rip into the back of her mother's white dress. Her mother let out a wordless gasp as she collapsed onto the ground. Panting heavily, she began to drag herself with what little strength she had remaining in her body, leaving a crimson trail behind her. A dark red hue began to stain through her white dress. Her mother did not weep nor did she cry. Her eyes were fixed upon her daughter, the one thing she desperately wished to shield from harm. Oboro could hear the assassin's footsteps slowly following the trail of blood like a hound. She met her mother's gaze and in that moment understood the reality of the situation. Through her bloodied lips, her mother wordlessly whispered to her daughter.

"O-oboro…."

The words never left her lips as the silver tip of the blade pierced her throat. With a gasp, her mother fell lifeless, only a few feet from her daughter. Oboro felt her chest grow heavy and her hands grow numb. Her body pleaded with her to scream, to call out to her mother. Yet, she could only hold her hands to cover her mouth. She could feel the warmth of the tears welling up at the corners of her eyes. Yet, she could not scream for fear gripped her voice.

The assassin slowly approached her mother's body, effortlessly removing the knife from her back. He gazed intently at the carriage, as if he sensed someone watching him, but he made no further effort. Oboro watched silently as the specter disappeared into the night, consumed by the shadows.

How long she stared at the lifeless bodies of her mother and father was unknown to her. Minutes, perhaps hours, passed before she drew the strength to emerge from the carriage. She did not run, instead softly walking across the dirt road. When she at last reached her mother and father, she silently gazed into their eyes. Her father's expression was one of fear as his widened eyes stared endlessly into the skies.

She turned her gaze to her mother, staring into her empty eyes. She almost looked calm, as if she were sleeping under the full moon. Her white dress was stained with a crimson hue that was scattered among the grass. At last, Oboro felt her legs falter as she crumbled to the ground. She buried her face into her mother's chest, tightly gripping her dress. Her broken cries finally pierced forward from her lips as her body trembled from her sorrowful weeping.

As Oboro finally lifted her face from her mother's dress, her tears dropped against her mother's pale face, pattering like raindrops. As her vision began to falter, she gazed at her mother's serene face one last time. Darkness enveloped her eyes as the luminous white of the moon glistened against the pool of dark scarlet blood that surrounded her.

* * *

Oboro's eyes darted open to humming of crickets accompanying the early dawn. The telltale signs of light began to pierce through the openings of her window. Her heart pounded against her chest as she laid her hand against her brow. Taking deep breaths, she slowly took her hand against her forehead, wiping away the sweat. She propped herself up from her futon, slowly emerging from under the blankets. She could feel the subtle sense of pounding within her head.

"That's the third time this week…"

She mustered the strength to walk over to the fitting room. The room was adorned with multiple kimonos, most unfinished. In the center of the room was a tall mirror, used to display the full figure of anyone wearing one of the kimonos. To Oboro, however, it served as a way of looking at herself after she had woken up, in hopes that all she had lived up to this point was nothing more than a bad dream.

Oboro looked into the mirror, gazing at her own reflection. She saw a young woman gazing back at her with her dark disheveled hair flowing past her shoulders. Many years had passed, yet she could see her own younger self, petrified in fear at the sight of the murders. Every morning, she had watched herself grow into the reflection that she saw today. Her arms were toned from years of training and combat, her hands were covered in calluses and blisters from gripping the naginata and sewing afterwards, and her face no longer contained any of the childish innocence that she once had. All that she saw was a woman torn by her desire to continue her parents' work and the unabated hatred of Nohr.

As Oboro entered the washroom, she disrobed her nightclothes and entered the lukewarm water in the tub. As she sat in the water, she thought back to the years that had passed so quickly.

On that night, Oboro could not remember how long she was left alone in the field, laying aside the bodies of her parents. She was eventually discovered by a traveling group of Hoshidan traders wandering through the area. All that she could remember was the funeral that her relatives held for her parents, the false condolences, and the desires for what wealth and influence her family had held. She cared very little for any of it, for any sort of aspirations to live. For a time, she was sent from household to household of relatives, handing her off and unwilling to treat her more than any common servant due to her skills at sewing.

It was not until one of her relatives who pitied her yet had connections to the Hoshidan military offered her an opportunity to find a better life as a soldier. Under that lifestyle, she learned how to wield weapons, to kill with efficiency, and to show no quarter to those who opposed Hoshido. Her skills among the army were considered to be on par with the best at a very young age, prompting her promotion as the personal retainer to the young prince of Hoshido, Takumi.

He was very much the same age as her, yet she looked up to him for all the flaws that he represented. He was human as she was, driven by the desire to become as successful as his siblings. Even more so, she respected his mother, Mikoto, who had also lost her son and her husband to Nohr. For these reasons, Oboro took it upon herself to devote her life to protecting Takumi not only for her childish infatuation with the prince but out of respect for a woman who had endured as much as she had. Yet, at the end of the day, it was nothing more than a fantasy in her head. Her service was to protect her lord, nothing more, nothing less.

As she left the washroom, Oboro began drying her hair, letting it tumble around her. She reached for the familiar colors of her orange and midnight blue uniform, strapping on the patterned wooden plate onto her chest. She finished her preparations as she gripped her hair, tying it into the ponytail that she had worn for so many years ever since entering Takumi's service. At last reaching for her naginata, she cracked open the doors of her room, viewing the courtyard of the royal palace.

For the sake of the mother and father, she promised herself to learn to live. Dawn was beginning to break as the cold shroud of the moon faded into the clouds. Smiling softly, Oboro stepped into the daylight, ready to begin the new day.

* * *

Author's Notes:

This is very much a prologue to the series I am about to write. I want to take a much more serious, yet equally sweet, approach to this story. Whereas Fire Emblem: Awakening was a well written yet somewhat naïve approach to morality, I felt that Fates took a much better path at making your consequences felt. At the end of the day, I decided that I would try to write these chapters at a sort of medium-length, not as long as _Of Wyverns and Men_ , but also nowhere near as short as just a page long. The only real issue here is whether or not I will choose to follow the Birthright or the Revelations path. I personally prefer the Birthright route because it captures a lot of the emotional and tragic elements of a war between two nations. The Revelations path fails to create any sort of accountability for their actions at all. Thus, if I were to create a theoretical story involving the Revelations path, I would have it come after the Birthright route where certain characters are no longer there because of the consequences of defeating Nohr. Of course, this is still very much in the air.

On a secondary note, this story is very much about Oboro and Kamui (or whatever his name is in the English version). I have a number of reasons for this choice. First of all, I'm not really a big fan of pre-determined romances in games. It's the very same reason I wrote my Cherche story in the first place as I was rather annoyed that the only type of stories I saw were between Virion and Cherche. Additionally, I feel that Oboro truly had a lot more room to grow in her supports with Kamui when I read them. Having played the DLC in the Japanese versions as well, I was pretty happy to see that they expanded upon their marriage. Therefore, I have every intention of continuing upon this pairing.

As always, please feel free to leave any comments or questions in the reviews or in my inbox. I will be happy to reply as soon as I can.

-Komina


End file.
